She Does Not Brave the War
by likeshoepolish
Summary: After hearing of her mother and brother's demise, Sansa is devastated, and Tyrion begins to try and help her through it. Spoilers up to the season 3 finale.
1. Sansa- Come Away to the Water

_Come Away to the Water_

_Sansa_

"_Come away, little light_

_Come away to the laughter,_

_Show yourself so we might live."_

-Glen Hansard, "Come Away to the Water"

Sansa's days had been pasted together into a mess. Sometimes, everything was so confusing she wasn't sure if it was day or night. But she couldn't bring herself to stand and pull back the curtains to see. She knew the sight of King's Landing would make her ill.

_All I want, _Sansa was always thinking, _is to go home. Back to Winterfell. Gods be good, take me back to the days when my father had a head, when Bran could walk._

_ When Mother and Robb were alive. _

It had to have been 10 days or so since that afternoon, when she was walking back from the gardens after Podrick had called Tyrion to the Small Counsel meeting. She was walking side by side with Shae when she heard a chilling voice behind her.

"Little dove," Cersei had cooed, in a way that Sansa now hated. "Might I be able to talk to you?"

Sansa swallowed. "Of course, Your Grace."

"Alone, perhaps? Could your Lorathi handmaiden leave us for a bit?"

Sansa nodded to Shae, who was staring at the Queen Regent with something Sansa was all too familiar with now: disdain, and perhaps a bit of fear.

After Shae was out of sight, Cersei had led Sansa by the arm in the other direction.

"And how are you enjoying marriage?" Cersei asked.

Sansa wished people would stop asking her that. "It's been treating me well so far, Your Grace. Lord Tyrion has been very kind to me."

"Oh, yes, my brother is very kind," Cersei said with a cunning smile. "I just saw him, in the Small Counsel meeting."

"If I may ask, Your Grace, why are you not there? Don't you usually sit in on the meetings?"

"I do, Little Dove. But I left early, because I felt I needed to tell you myself of the news we received today."

Sansa raised her eyebrows warily. _This has to be a trick, _she thought. _Something to get me to admit my brother is a traitor again._

"Little Dove, your mother and brother were recently at The Twins. Your uncle married one of Walder Frey's daughters."

Sansa remembered her mother once saying Lord Frey had been trying to get Uncle Edmure to wed one of his daughters for decades, but it had never worked. _I suppose it finally has._

"That's all very well, Your Grace," Sansa said politely. "I hope my uncle will be happy with her."

"I do hope so, too. After what happened that night."

They stopped for a moment, and Sansa stared at the Queen. _No, _she thought to herself. _No, what has happened?_

"I shan't beat around the bush when I tell you this, Little Dove. Your mother and brother are dead. Along with most of your brother's men, and his wife."

And with that, Cersei Lannister walked off, without another word.

Sansa wasn't sure how long she stood in that garden, still as a statue, trying to process what Cersei had just told her. But eventually, she found herself walking back to the Red Keep. And everyone who she passed began to stare at her.

_They know, _Sansa realized. _Am I the last to be informed of this? That I am perhaps the only Stark left? _

As she got closer to her chambers, bystanders began to look away from her. Sansa knew they probably expected her to be a mess. But she was forcing herself to keep her composure, only until she was in her chambers, with the door shut.

The walk that usually only took her five minutes seemed to go on for miles. But finally, she was in the hall of the Red Keep, at her door.

When she had shut the door, she immediately fell to the floor, and began to sob.

"Robb," she kept whispering. "Mother. I'm so, so sorry."  
Cersei had not been specific on how they had died. But Sansa knew that the Lannisters had something to do with this. Perhaps most of the fault was with the Freys, but the Lannisters had to have known.

_Not all of them, though. Just Tywin._

Even if only one of them knew, she could feel her hatred for them burning through her body then. She had hated them since Joffrey had had her father killed, but now that hate was so apparent that she was aware that she could no longer hide it.

_And I am married to a Lannister, _she remembered. _Perhaps Tyrion was kind to me, but I don't care. Not anymore. He could be as guilty as Tywin and Cersei. _

Sansa then lifted herself from the floor, and limped to the window.

It had been one of her favorite places to sit since the chambers had become hers. It looked over the sea, and in the distance Sansa could see some ships sailing away.

But on that day, Sansa absolutely hated her view. It made her want to vomit. _This __is not home. This is a horrible place, where I am prisoner. I want to go home. I _need _to go home. _

Sansa remembered the last time she saw Robb and her mother. The day she had left with Father and Arya for King's Landing.

It was right after Bran's fall, so Mother had been cooped up in his room at his bedside. When Sansa had walked in to say goodbye, she had been shocked by how sad her mother looked. Her hair hung down her back, most of it in tangles. Her face was ashen, with purple circles under her eyes.

"Mother," she had whispered. "We will be leaving soon. Will you come and see us off?"

Her mother had turned then, and had tried to smile. "Oh, my sweet girl. I'm afraid I can't. I don't want to leave your brother."

Sansa had been disappointed, but she nodded, and walked over to embrace her mother.

"You will be an excellent queen," Mother had whispered into her hair. "The Seven Kingdoms will have never had a better one. Be good, Sansa. And write to me."

"I will," Sansa had promised, kissing her mother's forehead and walking off.

Outside, Robb had held her tight. "I can't believe my sister will be Queen one day," he had said. "Don't forget us."

Sansa had laughed. "Robb, you know I won't." She kissed his forehead, too. "I could never forget you all."

He nodded, and returned her smile. "Good. Off with you, then, Your Grace." He winked at her as he helped her onto her horse.

Sansa had begun to weep again after remembering that. _I'll never forget them, _she promised herself. _Never. _

Just then, she heard the door open, then shut again, and the sound of her husband's footsteps. She hurriedly wiped her face and looked out the window, to avoid his certain gaze.

And then, Tyrion was in the same room as her. She didn't look back at him, not until he heard him say, in a small voice, "Sansa?"

Her eyes began to fill with tears again, and she looked at him. His face was grim, but also seemed to be sad.

But she couldn't stand looking at him. _Your father had something to do with this, _she wanted to shout at him. _I know it!_

Instead, she just looked back out the window, until he heard him walk away.

Ten days later, she had not spoken a word to him, or any Lannister. She had barely even left her chambers. She asked Shae to dine with her, and Tyrion still slept on the chaise across the room.

Surprisingly, no one had questioned her, ordered her to rise and make herself look presentable. _They know I've reached my breaking point, _Sansa thought bitterly. _They'll bother me soon enough, but at least they've let me have some peace. _

Sansa was staring at the ceiling above her bed when she heard Tyrion come in. She turned and watch him set down some rolls of parchment on a table near the chaise. She expected him to sit there and continue his work, as he had for the last week and a half.

Instead, he walked into her bed chambers.

She pretended not to notice as he approached the bed. "Sansa?" he said meekly.

She did not answer. All she did was blink at the dots that were trickling through her sight.

"Sansa," he repeated, a little louder. "I... I know this has been difficult. But... it's been days. Please, get up. Dinner will be here soon, and I... I'd like to dine with you."

"Why?" she suddenly asked. She hadn't meant to, it had been just a thought that had bubbled up in her throat.

She knew she had to sit up then, so she slowly rose from the mattress, and looked her husband straight in the eye.

He looked tired- extremely tired. But as she looked up at him, he did not let his gaze break away from her. She could tell her question had taken him by surprise.

"It's been ten days, and I... I know this has been hard-"

"No!" Sansa exclaimed. "You _do not _know this has been hard. _Your _mother and brother were not slaughtered at a wedding."

He looked down at the floor. "I know, Sansa. I don't know how this feels at all. Just... please. You eat with Shae, but you eat very little. You barely ever rise from bed. And I know you are grieving, that you barely had any time to grieve for your father or younger brothers... But... perhaps getting up will help you."

Sansa started to twist at her dragonfly necklace that she never took off. _Why does he care? _She wondered.

"I know they wouldn't want me like this," she found herself telling the Lannister. "They wouldn't want me to be this upset. They'd want me to carry on. But... I can't. I can't."

"Oh, lovely girl," he said softly, then paused, like the words scared him. But he eventually continued. "It is hard. But try to remember that. Be strong for them. Why don't you get ready, and we'll have supper?"

Sansa was trembling, but she nodded, and slowly stepped out from under the covers. Her head was pounding, but she tried to ignore it.

She walked straight to her mirror. She knew she shouldn't be shocked but what she saw, but she was. She looked eerily similar to her mother on the last day they saw one another. An ashen face, tangled hair, sunken eyes... She didn't look like Sansa Stark.

But she continued to will herself to breathe. She knew Tyrion was watching her as she picked up a hairbrush and began to run the bristles through the knots.

She looked to her husband, and found him with a small smile on his face. "I'll leave you now," he said as turned on his heels.

Sansa turned back to the mirrors. _Keep breathing, _she repeated in her head. _Keep breathing. For Mother. For Robb. For Winterfell. _


	2. Tyrion- Love, Be Brave

_Love, Be Brave_

_Tyrion_

"_Love, be brave;_

_No one will save you but me,_

_and that has not yet been_

_the safest place for you to be."_

_-_Laura Marling, "_Love, Be Brave_"

As Tyrion walked into the dining chambers he now shared with his wife, he couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. He had anticipated weeks of silence from Sansa. He knew that she would be up and trying to continue life before the end of a second week, but had expected her to continue to ignore him for longer than that.

He hadn't wanted to force her to continue as though nothing had happened. When she hadn't been in court for three straight days, Joffrey had asked him, loudly, "Uncle, where is your wife?"

Tyrion had tried to stay polite and calm. _You're very close to losing your tongue, _he reminded himself. "Lady Sansa is feeling under the weather, Your Grace. I expect she'll be back in court soon."

His nephew had smiled sadistically. "Well, then I suppose it's a good thing I didn't _bring her her traitor brother's head at supper_." He had said that last part louder, so that every one of the noblemen around them could hear.

And for once, Tyrion Lannister could not think of a witty response, one that would send the King fumbling and furious. All he could do was glare at Joffrey for a straight minute, and then turn on his heels.

His sister had been even worse about Sansa's absence.

"Why can't you just _make _her get up?" she had asked him after a Small Counsel meeting, when their father had left.

"She's grieving!" Tyrion exclaimed. "You barely gave her any time to do that after your son chopped her father's head off, and then made her look at it."

"Grieving is for the weak," Cersei replied with a scoff. "Father didn't let me grieve when you killed our mother. Life goes on; tell the Little Dove that."

He looked up at his sister, and held his gaze. "Grieving is not weak. It shows that those who leave in a brutal way have left with a part of us. Remember that someday, sweet sister." And he had propped himself off of his chair, and walked away.

_She has every right to hate my family, _he had realized while drunk on the fourth day of silence. _She has every right to hate _me.

Tyrion was sitting at the small table where he ate with Sansa when he heard Shae come in. Her arms were full with trays of food, and a pitcher of water.

She gave him a hard glare as she slammed down two courses, then turned to go into Sansa's room.

Tyrion raised a hand to stop her, though she wouldn't have seen it. "Sansa is dining with me tonight," he said softly.

Shae slowly turned, her mouth curled up in disgust. "You vile creature," she whispered. "Are you forcing her to do this? She hasn't recovered yet! She'll dine with me if she-"

"Shae, no," he interrupted, trying to remain calm. "We talked. She's readying herself, and she'll be eating with me."

She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. But eventually, she looked away and sighed. "I suppose that's good. I thought it would be longer than this."  
"I did, too," Tyrion replied with a small smile, which she did not return.

"Well, I suppose you both won't be needing me." She started for the door, but he called after her.

"Could you... bring some wine?"

Shae turned, gave him a smile, similar smile, and shook her head "no" before leaving.

Though their food was getting cold, and it smelled delicious, Tyrion waited patiently for Sansa.

And eventually, she meekly walked in, completely cleaned up.

Her auburn hair was no long knotted and tangled; she had brushed through it all, it was even a little wet with water and rose oil. She had braided it back simply, though a few strands still stuck out.

She had also stripped off the dark purple dress she had been wearing since she first learned of her family's murders. She now wore a gown of blue, along with a necklace with a dragonfly pendant that she had started wearing again since her engagement to Joffrey had been broken off.

Her face was no longer as pale as a sheet- in fact, there was quite a bit of color in it. She had dabbed something underneath her eyes, and most of the purple had disappeared from them.

She nodded to him as she sat across from him. "May I serve myself?" she asked in a voice that was stronger than it had been for a long time.

"Of course," he replied. "My lady, you do look beautiful."

He could see her trying to bite back a smile. "Thank you, my lord."

"Tyrion," he corrected her. "It's alright if you call me Tyrion."  
She looked up from her venison. "Then you shouldn't call me 'my lady'," she replied, some slight mischief in her voice.

Tyrion laughed and nodded. "True. It's settled, then. I am Tyrion, and you are Sansa. Nothing else."  
Sansa looked back down at her food and began to eat.

The silence after that was slightly awkward, but in a way comforting. Her very presence comforted him.

But then, he couldn't take the quiet anymore. He had to make conversation. But he wasn't sure what to say.

Stupidly, he said the first thing that came to mind. "They miss you in court."

Sansa's eyes shot up. "No, they don't," she said with a certain tranquility.

He should have expected that answer. "I know that Margaery does."

"Margaery has not come to visit me once since my brother and mother were murdered," she shot back as she cut another piece of venison up.

Tyrion was taken aback by her mention of what had happened. Just two hours ago, she was lying in bed, refusing to mention it. What had changed?

And then it hit him. _She was devastated. And now she is furious. _

_ But maybe we should talk about it. _

"Sansa... about that..." he began.

"What exactly happened, Tyrion?" she asked with fire in her voice. "Tell me. How did my mother and brother die?"

Tyrion did not often show too much emotion. But right then, he began to shake. "Sansa, I don't think you want to know..."

"Yes, I do. It is my right. They were my family."

His meek, ladylike wife had disappeared. Now, she was angry, and in a way, unafraid.

_She must get sick of having to recite the same lines over and over for Joffrey and Cersei. _

He tried to be delicate. "After the bedding ceremony for your brother and Lord Walder's daughter... from my understanding... one of his sons... began to stab his wife."

"My brother was married," Sansa said solemnly. "I never met her."

"I did not either. They had only just married."

Sansa pushed her plate aside and stared at him. "Go on."

He could not hold her gaze. "After that... they attacked your mother and brother."

"And did they die right then?"

"...No. Sansa, I don't think you-"

"Gods damn you, Tyrion!" she exclaimed. "You're trying to protect me, don't you realize that you can't? There's no protecting me anymore!"

He could see fresh tears in her eyes, mixed with rage.

Without giving himself time to stop himself, he stood, and eased his way towards her. She was hunched over, and he could tell she was trying not to burst into tears.

He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, and held it out to her. "I'm so, so sorry, Sansa," he whispered.

She gingerly took the handkerchief and dried her eyes with it. "It wasn't you," she said. "I know it wasn't. You didn't even know, did you?"

He shook his head. "It was all my father. Even Cersei didn't know."

She nodded in response, toying with the end of her braid.

"I've been in King's Landing for more than a year now," she told him as she ran her fingers over the criss-crosses in her hair. "Over a year of reciting the same lines to everyone about how happy I am." Her voice took on a familiar obedient tone as she repeated them for him. "'My father and brother are- _were_ - traitors, and I am loyal to Joffrey.' 'Yes, I am very happy in King's Landing, my lady. Life has been just like a song here.'" Sansa's hands dropped to her lap and shook her head. "It's never ended."

Tyrion stared at his wife. _She's been beaten down, _he observed. _She's had to play a part for everyone, and it's taken a toll on her. _

Without pausing, he reached over and ran his fingers over the back of her hand. She looked up, shocked, and he immediately pulled back.

But she gave him a small smile. "It's alright. Thank you. I shouldn't dump this all on you."

"I'm just happy that you're talking to me," he whispered.

"It was rather childish to ignore you, wasn't it?"

"No, Sansa, it's completely all right," Tyrion assured her. "I won't say I understand your grief, but I understand your intentions." He leaned a little closer to her, and said softly, "And you don't have to continue to play that part. You don't have to continue being... what was it the Hound called you?"

Sansa sighed. "Little Bird."

"Ah, yes. You don't have to continue being a little bird. You aren't Joffrey's betrothed anymore. Let's leave that role to Margaery. Now, you are just Sansa. And I will promise you this again- no one will hurt you. Especially not I."

When he finished speaking, he noticed Sansa's eyes had softened. She showed him a sliver of a smile for a few moments, then shut her eyes and nodded.

He leaned over to kiss her forehead, and she did not object. She felt cool, peaceful. After that, he returned to his seat, and they continued their meal.

Dinner was a little quieter after that, but the atmosphere was much friendlier. In between bites, Tyrion would update Sansa on what she had missed in the last 10 days.

"Plans for the royal wedding have officially begun," he explained. "There's been some sort of commotion over the flowers. We _know _that they will all be roses, of course, but no one can decide what color they should be. My sister wants them to be red, for the Lannisters and for love. But Margaery says they should be white, to fit the typical wedding colors. Oh, Sansa, whenever you're in their presence you can just _tell _how much they loathe one another."

Sansa snorted and tried to hold her water in her mouth. She swallowed, and then began to laugh hysterically. She was practically doubling over, and her eyes were moist.

When she had finished, she looked at Tyrion, who was just watching and smiling.

She looked down at her lap, still slightly smiling. "Forgive me, I just... had a feeling that the Queen Regent and Margaery didn't care for one another."

Tyrion chuckled. "Cersei told me that she's threatened to strangle the girl in her sleep numerous times."

Sansa's mouth dropped open and she started to laugh again. "What did she do?!"  
"I don't even know!"

She giggled. "Well, I like Margaery. I think she'll be a good queen."

"She will," he agreed. "My sister just doesn't want to give up her power."

Sansa nodded knowingly.

"How do you feel, Sansa?" he asked her after a few minutes.

She set her cutlery down on the table and exhaled. "Better. It was a good idea to get up. But... In a way, I feel bad for laughing, having a good time with you."

_She's having a good time, _Tyrion repeated in his head, relieved. He tried not to show it, though. "Your family would want you to be happy. They were reasonable people, and they would know you were going to grieve for them. But they wouldn't mind if you lost those feelings, if only for a little while."

Sansa nodded. "You're right. Thank you." Then, she turned to look out the window. "Gods, it must be late. We should get to bed."

"Of course." He stood, and offered his hand to her. "Shall we?"

When they returned to their sleeping chambers, Sansa noted that Shae had already been in to turn down the bed.

"Tyrion, why don't you sleep in the bed tonight?" she said as she brushed through her now loose hair.

Tyrion was taken aback by this offer. "Sansa, that's quite kind of you... but I am just fine on the chaise-"

"No, really. I honestly can't stand the thought of being in that bed tonight. If it's all right with you, I'd like to sleep on the chaise."

He watched for a moment, as she ran her fingers through her hair to get out all of the braided bits. _She's beautiful, _he found himself thinking. _So, so beautiful. _

He realized then she was waiting for a response. "Yes, all right. Thank you."

She turned again. "Thank _you._"

Only when he crawled onto the mattress did he realize how much he had wanted to lie in a bed since he had been married to Sansa. The chaise _was _comfortable- but nothing compares to a featherbed.

As he pulled the covers over his little legs, he looked over to his wife. She had changed out of her dress, and had folded it over the changing screen. Now, she was only in her smallclothes- a simple ivory underdress.

_Even now, in the middle of the night, she looks beautiful. _

As Sansa blew out the candles, she turned and smiled at him. "Good night, Tyrion."

"Good night, Sansa," he replied as the darkness surrounded him.

But he could not sleep; his mind would not shut up.

It was then he realized what was going on inside of him. He sighed. _Bronn was right. I want her. Not just to fuck her. I want her to trust me. I want her to feel safe with me._

_ I want her to love me. _


	3. Sansa- Sorrow

_Sorrow_

_Sansa_

"_Sorrow found me when I was young._

_Sorrow waited, sorrow won."_

-The National, _"Sorrow"_

Sleeping on the chaise was quite different from a featherbed. It wasn't as soft, and the fabric that covered was slightly rough. Still, Sansa strangely enjoyed it. It was out of her comfort zone- every time she turned onto her side or her back, another stiff limb began to ease.

Still, she felt a little guilty for banishing Tyrion from the bed. It had to be uncomfortable. In a short span of time when she had woken, she made a mental note to apologize in the morning.

As the sun was beginning to rise, she woke again. _There was no point in trying to sleep any more_, her mind said. _Shae will be in with breakfast within the hour. _

She rose from the chaise, turning her head to rid a crick from her neck. She slipped into her morning robe, and then realized that she had absolutely nothing to do.

Time passed slowly. Tyrion was still asleep, and she found herself staring at him.

He was snoring softly, his entire body relaxed. From Sansa's angle, all she could see was his brassy blonde hair.

_Margaery is right, _Sansa found herself thinking. _He _is _quite handsome. I was wrong to complain about his height. It isn't as if he can help it. _

She remembered the day she had found out about the demise of Mother and Robb, right before. She had been walking with Tyrion, and chatting with him about the people who laughed at them.

_I was so comfortable with him in that moment, _she recalled with a small smile. _He treats me like I'm human. _

It was no secret Sansa had always dreamed of marrying a tall, handsome, gallant knight. Those dreams hadn't even died after Joffrey revealed how monstrous he was. When she had been briefly promised to Loras Tyrell, she had found herself fantasizing the same way she had when she was a child. She would marry Loras in a beautiful ceremony, and have beautiful sons named Eddard and Brandon and Rickon.

But it was only after she had been told she had to marry Tyrion that she realized how she had been thinking, and regretted it. She needed to remember that life would never be like the songs they sang at suppers.

Suddenly, the door slammed itself open, and Shae was rushing in with three different trays in her arms. Sansa rose.

As she was setting the trays down, Shae looked up at Sansa. "You're already up?"  
Sansa nodded.

Then, her handmaiden's eyes turned towards the bed. Her eyes filled with anger, and she jumped on the bed.

Tyrion immediately woke up, and then Shae was in his face. "Tell me you did not force yourself on her," she said through clenched teeth.

Sansa could only stand by in shock. "Sh-Shae!" she cried out. "He didn't! We-"

"Tell me you didn't take your little chance and 'do your duty'," Shae continued as she ignored Sansa.

Tyrion seemed to be more shocked than her. He was looking at Shae with wide eyes, and was completely frozen.

"Shae, I asked him to sleep in the bed! I slept on the chaise. Please, it's not what you think, get off of him!" Sansa felt as though she was on the verge of tears.

Her handmaiden turned and looked at Sansa with soft eyes. "You're telling the truth?"

Sansa bit her lip and nodded.

Slowly, Shae rose off the bed and back onto the floor. She went back to arranging the breakfast platters, and when she was finished, she left the chambers without a word.

Sansa and Tyrion had been watching her silently, unsure of what to say. As soon as she was gone, Tyrion spoke up.

"Well, that was a horrible way to start off the day."

Sansa toyed with a strand of her hair and looked down. "I am so, so sorry. I don't know why she did that."

Tyrion jumped onto the floor, and waddled over to the table. As he plucked a berry in his mouth, he gave Sansa a small smile. "Shae really cares for you, you know. She's only trying to protect you."

Sansa returned his smile as she poured herself a glass of water. "I love her, even though she does terrifying things like that."

Tyrion chuckled. "Shall we eat?"

Sansa sat with her husband, even though she didn't feel very hungry. She had just made a decision, and the thought of it made her feel weak in the knees.

But she knew this was a step she had to take.

"Tyrion, I would like to be back in court today," she finally said, as she cut open a pomegranate fruit with a small knife.

Tyrion looked up from his platter with surprised eyes. "You do? That's... that's wonderful!" He reached over and touched her hand for a second, as though he was trying to reassure her that this was the right decision.

"I need to feel human again," she explained to her husband without looking at him. "Besides, I'm a little afraid of what Joffrey will do to me if I'm absent for any longer."

He snorted. "If Joffrey even came close to you I would fill all of my empty threats. I've made sure he and his mother have not bothered you. They don't understand what grieving is."

_He did? _Sansa was touched knowing that. And very grateful. "Thank you, Tyrion. You didn't have to do that."

Tyrion looked up at her and smiled. "I wanted to. I told you, I would never hurt you or never let anyone else hurt you. That promise was not empty."

All Sansa could do was stare at him. She wasn't sure entirely how to react. But she knew that the fact he had kept his word made Sansa feel a million things. _He truly does care about me. _

"If you don't mind, I'm going to get ready for the day," she decided to say, and she rose from the table to find a gown to wear.

She decided not to wait for Shae to come and help her get ready. Sansa had grown up without handmaidens, and she still knew how to function without them.

Sansa did not have very many dresses. Now that she was not to be queen, Cersei had stopped caring about how her "little dove" looked. Most of Sansa's old gowns had become too small.

_I'm a woman now, _she had to remind herself. Sometimes, she would be stripped down and would look in the mirror at her naked body. She was nearly 15 now, and her breasts had blossomed into what she knew every man loved. She had grown at least three inches since arriving in King's Landing.

Sansa had always felt ugly when she was Joffrey's. After their betrothal had been broken off, she began to try and love herself again. "I am a Stark of Winterfell," she would sometimes tell herself at night. "Daughter of the honorable, brave Eddard Stark, and the beautiful, gentle-hearted Catelyn Tully. I can be beautiful. I can be brave."

As she slipped into a light purple dress and looked into the mirror again, Sansa actually felt beautiful for the first time in over a year. There was color in her face again, and the gown she was wearing complimented her sapphire-blue eyes well.

As she sat down at the vanity and began to contemplate what to do with her hair, she remembered her last conversation with Lord Baelish. _He had said my hair looked different. What did he mean by that?_

Then, it occurred to her.

When she had first arrived in King's Landing, she did her hair the way Cersei had done it in court- to look like a "Southern lady".

They had forced her to continue to wear her hair like that, but whenever she could she tried to wear her hair the way her mother had. Mother had been extremely simple in her hair; usually she just pinned back a few strands.

After she had become friends with the Tyrells, Margaery had shown her how to twist her hair back the way the women did in Highgarden.

_I've been copying those who have the most influence on me, _she thought.

On that day, Sansa did not want to do her hair like Cersei Lannister, or her lady mother, or Margaery Tyrell. She wanted to do her hair the Sansa Stark way.

Gently, she began to pull her hair back, until she had twisted it into a bun behind her head. With two other pieces of her auburn hair, she twisted them until they resembled little ropes.

_There. _Now she did not look like a Lannister, or a Tyrell. She didn't really look like anyone specific. _I'm just Sansa. _

When she walked back into the front of her chambers, Tyrion was ready as well. In a black and blue jerkin, paired with dark trousers, he looked quite nice- though Sansa was afraid to tell him that.

He was sitting with his back turned to her, reading a book. Sansa released all the breath from her body, then said softly, "I'm ready."

Tyrion turned to her, and his eyes widened. "My- My lady," he stammered, as though he were nervous. "You look lovely. Shall we?" he extended his hand out to her.

Sansa slowly reached out and intertwined her fingers in his. Her heart was pounding twenty times a second, and she felt as though all of her weight had slipped out from under her.

But she continued on as she walked out of the doors of her chambers with her lord husband, and released his hand. _I am stronger than all of them, _she said to herself.

Joffrey's subject turned and gaped at her as she slipped into the doors of the Throne Room with Tyrion. A few of them even whispered, like the gossips they were.

_"Lady Sansa is back in court! It's been just 10 days since word came of Lady Catelyn and Lord Robb's demises. Do you think His Grace will still give her the Stark boy's head?" _

When she heard that last sentence, she had to stop and grasp for Tyrion's shoulder, to steady herself. He stopped along with her, and allowed it. "It's alright," he whispered in a voice barely audible, so that only she would hear it.

She nodded to him, and they continued.

Since marrying Tyrion, she had been standing in a different spot than she had when she was all by herself. As Master of Coin, Tyrion stood with people such as his father, the Hand of the King, and Lord Varys, the Master of Whisperers. They all stood to the King's right. Sansa herself, now addressed as Lady Sansa Lannister, stood right below them, with a few other noblewomen.

Grand Maester Pycelle droned and stuttered on about the issues of the day, until there was nothing further, and the Queen Regent stood.

Looking at Cersei made Sansa feel slightly ill. After all, the two hadn't seen one another since she had told Sansa of the fateful news.

Cersei stood proud and true, but there was something in her face that made her look as though she was nearing tears.

"His Grace and I are happy to tell you all of the return of the head of the Kingsguard, Ser Jaime Lannister."

Everyone only had about two seconds to flutter about and whisper. "_Jaime Lannister? The Kingslayer? Back in King's Landing?" _

Then, the doors opened, and Ser Jaime himself came strutting in, with two other men behind him.

One of them was in Maester's robes, but had no chain. He was old, but not as old as Pycelle. The other was not even a man. She was a woman, tall and broad, with short blonde hair. She was dressed in dusty leathers, and looked incredibly grim.

Right in the middle was Jaime, now her brother-in-law. His hair looked freshly washed, his cheeks freshly shaved.

But he was rugged, and as he walked closer, everyone gasped at the sight of his right arm.

It was missing a hand.

A/N: Hey all! Sorry for the wait. I've been super busy. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. As you could have guessed, the POV's of chapters will be a pattern: the next chapter is going to be Tyrion's POV, then Sansa's, and so on. I _may _add some other character's POVs, but I'm not sure. Thanks again for all the support!


	4. Tyrion- Bad Blood

_Bad Blood_

_Tyrion_

"_But these are the things that bind us, together, forever,  
And these little things define us, forever, forever." _

-Bastille, "_Bad Blood_"

_ Jaime is alive. _

As Tyrion walked through the halls of the Red Keep towards the Hand's Tower with his family and wife, along with Jaime's new friends, he had to repeat that to himself countless times in his head.

It had been far too long since he had seen his big brother. They had last been with one another in Winterfell, where Jaime had travelled back south and Tyrion had ridden further north.

_Look at how much has changed, _Tyrion thought to himself as he glanced up at Sansa, who was walking slowly between him and Tywin, looking slightly terrified. _I've been accused of murder. I've fought in two battles, one of which permanently scarred my face. I've been married off. And... I may love her? _

The last part didn't seem as sure as his past memories.

He shot his gaze to Jaime then, who was walking behind him, his new friends at both of his sides.

And that is when he noted he was holding the masculine-looking woman's hand.

His sister was walking next to Joffrey, and Tyrion saw in her face that she knew of Jaime's interest in a woman besides her. Every now and then she would eye their brother, and her lip would curl in disgust and envy.

No one had spoken a word since Joffrey had dismissed court early, and Tywin ordered that they all return to his chambers to "officially reunite". As they walked up the steps of the Tower of the Hand, Tyrion stopped while his wife and father walked up the steps, to finally speak with his brother. He did hate to leave Sansa alone with his father, but he just needed a private moment.

Cersei and Joffrey passed him, and then Jaime was right next to him, his entourage stopping behind him.

"You're here," Tyrion said softly, touching his brother's arm—- the only arm he had now with a hand attached to it. "You're really here."

Jaime grinned. "You should have seen your face when I walked through those doors. You looked like you might've shit yourself."

The two laughed together as they embraced for the first time. Then, they continued up the stairs.

Their father, sister, nephew, and Sansa were all sitting at the table where they held Small Council meetings. Tyrion noticed how ashen Sansa's face looked as he took his seat next to her, and across from Jaime.

"What's wrong?" he whispered to her as softly as possible.

But the question answered itself when he reached to take her hand, and saw Joffrey's fingers on her right thigh.

_Shit. What do I do now? _He knew that if he brought it up, he'd only make everyone uncomfortable (and the King would be furious).

But he had had it with his nephew violating her.

"Sansa," he said for everyone to hear, "This is... embarrassing... but I can't entirely see everyone in this chair. I'm... too short. Could we by chance switch? I usually sit there during meetings."

His wife did not miss a beat. "Of course, my lord," she replied, taking up her public courtesies. She immediately rose, the chair groaning behind her and Joffrey's arm dropping to his side.

As he settled into the new seat, he noticed the scowl his nephew had. Tyrion smiled innocently at him in return.

There was no more silence now. Tywin immediately spoke up. "It's been a long time since we've all seen Jaime," he began. "Many things have changed. We need to update one another on what's happened in our lives, so there is no confusion. Jaime, won't you tell those who don't know what happened to your hand?"

It was then Tyrion realized that Father, Cersei, and Joffrey had already seen Jaime. Only he and Sansa were unsure of his untimely reappearance.

"There isn't entirely much to tell," Jaime said, drumming his remaining five fingers on the table's surface. "One of Lord Bolton's men decided he'd be sending you a 'message' by chopping off my sword hand, and then having me wear it 'round my neck."

Tywin nodded, looking disgusted even though he already knew of this. "Could you now introduce your... acquaintances?"

"Of course." He gestured to the elderly man on his left. "This is Qyburn. He was a Maester of the Citadel before that title was stripped of him. If it weren't for him, I would have lost my entire arm. Or my life. I would like to see him rewarded handsomely.

"And this lovely woman," Jaime continued, pointing with his stump, "Is Brienne of Tarth. Lady Stark charged her with getting me back-"

"Hold on," Tywin interrupted abruptly, "Lady Stark _let you go_?"

Tyrion's heart began to pound like a drum. He reached for Sansa's hand and squeezed it, knowing he couldn't bear to look at her face. _Please be brave, Sansa, _he willed her through his mind, as though they could communicate this way.

"Should we _really _be talking about this with her daughter right across the table?" Jaime demanded, as though _he _had heard Tyrion's internal pleas.

He heard Sansa suck in her breath and hold it.

"What does she care?" Joffrey butted in. "She had a family full of traitors. Now they're all dead."

"You brought up Lady Stark yourself, Jaime," Cersei pointed out angrily.

As his family continued to argue, Sansa remained silent. But Tyrion could see the tears pooling in her eyes.

"Enough!" Tyrion heard himself shout as he jumped out of his chair, still grasping Sansa's hand. "If you will excuse us."

Sansa slowly rose, and followed him out of the Tower, back outside.

As soon as they were in the open air, Sansa crumpled to the ground and began to sob.

Tyrion sat next to her and placed his arm around her. She did not pull back, and continued to weep into his shoulder.

"I know," Tyrion told her repeatedly, stroking her hair.

"She let him go," she said into his jerkin. "She let him go so that I could go home."

"It appears so," was all he could tell her.

Tyrion willed his family to stay inside. _Do not come out here. Any of you. _

He knew that Jaime's mention of Lady Stark had been harmless, probably accidental. But Tyrion could not help but feel a bit of hatred for his brother for the first time ever. _Damn you, Jaime. She and I were getting somewhere. _

Sansa's face emerged from his clothing, her vivid blue eyes blearing and swollen. Tyrion fished a fresh handkerchief out of his pocket and held it to her. She took it gingerly and began to wipe her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "They're horrible, I know. I won't even try to justify Jaime mentioning your lady mother. It was foolish of him."

"It's alright," she said, carefully folding the cloth. "I know it was harmless. I don't know your brother. But I do know the rest of your family. I think I'm allowed to hate them."

Tyrion couldn't help but smile- just a little bit. "You have every right in the world to hate them."

Sansa slowly stood, brushing off the dirt from her gown. "If it's alright with you, I'm not going to go back in there. Could I... go back to my chambers? Or go find Margaery or Shae?"

"Absolutely, Sansa. You are free to do whatever you'd like. I won't force you to go back in there."

Sansa slowly came back down to his height, and lightly kissed him on the mouth. "Thank you." And then she rose again, and walked back towards the castle.

As soon she turned her back, Tyrion ran a finger over his lips. _Did she... really just do that? _His heart became a drum again. That had been what he had wanted her to do for the last evening and morning. But he hadn't expected it at all.

All he could ask at that moment was, _Why? _Why did she kiss him? What did she feel?

_Is it the same as what I feel now? _

He had begun to walk away from the Tower when he heard the door open and shut. He turned to see Jaime and Brienne standing before him.

"I am so, so sorry," Jaime said. He looked absolutely distraught. "I didn't mean to upset her. That was so foolish."

"I know," Tyrion said. "But it's all right. She calmed down."

"My lord," Brienne spoke up suddenly. "Forgive me, but... where did your lady wife go? I would like to speak with her. I served Lady Catelyn. She was one of the finest women I've ever met, and I... would like to speak with her. If that'd be appropriate."  
"By all means, my lady," Tyrion said as graciously as possible. "I believe she's gone back to the Red Keep. Perhaps the gardens. She was going to try and find Lady Margaery, or her handmaiden. Do you know your way around?"

"I believe so. Thank you, Lord Tyrion." She bowed, and took her leave.

And at last, he was alone with his brother, for the first time in ages.

"Walk with me?" Tyrion asked, and Jaime nodded.

"Is she truly all right?" Jaime asked as they walked in the direction of the dock.

"I don't know," Tyrion admitted. "She wept for a little bit, as I expected. But... then... she kissed me. Right before she returned to the Red Keep."

Jaime stopped. "What? Are... are you two...?"

Tyrion laughed. "I don't know that, either. She hated me until last night. For the last 15 hours I've believed that a love between us was one-sided."

"So _you _love her?"

"Maybe 'love' is too strong a word. I do want her. I want to make her happy. And I do want her to want me."

Jaime chuckled. "It's funny. I've only ever loved Cersei. And at one point, during my, er, travels, I rescued Lady Brienne from Harrenhal's bear pit-"

"You _what?"_

"I'll explain that a bit more later. Anyway, after that, she left for King's Landing with me, and... something bubbled up between us. We bloody hated each other before Bolton's men captured us. And then we found ourselves sitting by a fire every night, telling stories of our childhoods, laughing, and at one point... we did kiss."

Tyrion looked to his brother and grinned. He had always wanted Jaime to find love, and had always felt his relationship with Cersei was... unhealthy. Even if they weren't brother and sister, they still wouldn't seem compatible to Tyrion. "I'm happy for you. Does this mean you'll...?"  
Jaime knew what Tyrion was asking as his voice trailed off. "Yes, I'll resign from the Kingsguard. Bloody Cersei wants me to continue on as its leader, but there's no way I could without my sword hand. Besides, the restrictions are seem absolutely awful now."

They both laughed, and then Jaime got serious again. Sincere, even. "Tell me about her. I never really talked to her when we were in Winterfell."

And for the first time, Tyrion Lannister was speechless.

"She's... she's amazing. Beautiful, as you can see. But also kind, and incredibly smart. Cersei and Joffrey think otherwise, but I have never disagreed with them more. Joffrey was an idiot to let her go as Queen. Even though Margaery will definitely succeed, Sansa was the perfect fit."

"Father would kill me for even suggesting this," Jaime remarked, "But she'd definitely make a wonderful Queen in the North."

Tyrion stopped dead in his tracks. "Please don't suggest that. I do agree with you, I do. But I don't want her to suffer the same fate as Robb."

Jaime nodded. "I know. I wasn't suggesting another rebellion. But... she's Winterfell's daughter. You know the Northerners won't forget what Father and Lord Frey did. The two youngest Stark boys are dead too, and Ned and Cat's other daughter is who knows where. She's all the North has left."

Tyrion broke his brother's gaze, looking down at the ground. "I need to keep her safe. I promised her I'd do that."

"You're doing your best, Tyrion," Jaime replied. "You know, you two are quite similar. Very intelligent, very vulnerable. All you're looking for is your place in life."

Tyrion knew he was right, and immediately felt even more sorry for Sansa Stark upon realizing that.

_A/N: Hi everyone! I got this chapter done much quicker than I expected, so I figured I'd post it now. I must thank you all again for all the wonderful support I've gotten on this story! You all truly are wonderful. :) I'm not sure how long this fic will be; the chapters are kind of just writing themselves! Nevertheless, I'm really excited about this story._

_I also want to let you know that you can follow me on Twitter and Tumblr. My Tumblr is .com, and my Twitter is punk_lobster. If you ever want to tweet or message me about the story, don't hesitate to! Much love. _


	5. Sansa- Bravado

_Bravado _

_Sansa _

"_I'm faking glory-_

_Lick my lips, toss my hair,  
And send a smile over. _

_The stories brand new,  
But I can take it from here.  
I'll find my own bravado." _

_-_Lorde, _"Bravado"_

Sansa had only kissed Tyrion once, besides the kiss that had happened just moments before.

It had been at their wedding, in front of the entire court. Sansa was on her knees, the septon had just bound their hands together, "tying their souls together as one", and made them say the traditional words:

_"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am hers, and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days."_

There had been a small pause. One could have heard a pin drop in the sept at that moment. Then, Tyrion had awkwardly leaned over and pecked her mouth. She had barely felt a thing, and was thankful for it.

* * *

As Sansa walked towards the Red Keep, she couldn't stop mentally questioning herself. _What in the seven hells got you to kiss him? _

She wrung her hands together as she scurried through the doors. Sansa was not sure what to feel for Tyrion Lannister at all. It had been only a day ago that she had absolutely despised him and the rest of his family. At one point in her life, she would have believed one could fall in love as quickly as that, but now she knew better.

_You are not in love with him, _she told herself. _You were showing your gratitude towards him. You are his wife, after all._

* * *

Sansa remembered the story her lady mother had told her on her 13th Name Day. Her mother was braiding her hair for the feast, and Sansa had innocently asked if she could hear about the wedding between Lady Catelyn and Lord Eddard.

Her mother had sighed, finishing off a plait. "I suppose now you're old enough to hear about it."

"What was so bad about it?"

"Oh, nothing was bad about it. It's just... you have such expectations for marriage, dear. I didn't want to crush them.

"But you will soon be a woman. And you should know that marriage is not always happy at first. I was arranged to marry your uncle, Brandon. But after The Mad King killed him and Lord Rickard, my lord father still wanted to secure a truce with between the Tullys and the Starks. So, I married your father.

"We barely knew one another. I believed him not as handsome as Brandon, and he was so serious. He was the kind of man who would just do what he was told to do, and at first I didn't like that.

"When it came time for the Bedding Ceremony, your father broke tradition and forbade it. He told me it wouldn't be a good sign if he had to break a man's jaw on his wedding night.

"We were somewhat cold towards one another in the first days of our marriage. And then he went off to war, came back with your bastard half-brother... things were actually cold for quite a while. But one night, he came home from his duties smiling. He made jollier conversation than I had ever heard out of a Stark. I don't know what changed in him, sweet Sansa. But I believe that night conceived our love.

"The reason I am telling you all this," Lady Catelyn said firmly, "Is because you will be married one day. I don't know to who, but it may not be happy. But you do what you must. I know you will do that."

* * *

_Maybe I will grow to love Tyrion the way Mother loved Father, _Sansa thought. _Could that happen? He is a good man. He does care for me. And... perhaps I care for him. He has done so much for me. He is gentle, brave, honorable... everything my father wanted in my husband._

"Lady Sansa," she heard a voice say from behind her as she approached her chambers.

She turned, and saw that it was the woman who accompanied Ser Jaime. Brienne, she believed her name was.

"Lady Sansa," Lady Brienne repeated when she was within arm's length of Sansa, "My name is Brienne of Tarth. I served your mother. I understand you must be grieving so for her and your brother, but I would... I would love to serve you. I'm to stay in King's Landing, and perhaps you would need protection. In your lady mother's memory, I would like to swear fealty to you."

Sansa could have wept right in front of Brienne of Tarth right there. Her words had been so sincere, the most sincere words she had heard from a stranger in a long time. Brienne looked strong, both physically and mentally, and at the same time she looked like she had empathy. The woman did not have to serve Sansa. She was just a captive, a pawn. In that moment, all she wanted was to accept Brienne's offer.

But she had to ask the expected question.

"Lady Brienne, I would be honored to have your protection. But would the King approve?"

"I asked him in the Tower of the Hand, after you left with Lord Tyrion. He was... hesitant, but I have his consent."

Sansa smiled. "Will you come inside?"

Brienne followed Sansa as she opened the doors to her chambers. They sat across from one another at a small table where Tyrion usually reviewed papers.

Sansa poured water from a pitcher and handed some to Brienne. "If I may ask, how exactly would you serve me?"

"I want to protect you," Brienne explained. "I'm not a sellsword. But I was part of Renly Baratheon's Kingsguard for a time. I'm good with a sword, if need be. Lady Sansa, you are in a dangerous place. King Joffrey is a cruel boy. Word traveled about what he did to you after Lord Stark was executed."

_It did? _Sansa knew it couldn't be any sort of secret. He did have her beaten in public many times, after all.

"Lady Sansa, if I may ask, how is your marriage to Lord Tyrion? I understand it was arranged by Lord Tywin."

As always, Sansa wished people would stop asking her that. But for different reasons when Brienne asked her. Yet she knew she could speak freely with Brienne.

"I... don't know, to be honest. I despised him just yesterday morning. But something has changed between us since last night. I know he wants to keep me safe. He saved me from Joffrey's wrath quite a few times. He is kind, he is brave. I'm unsure what I feel about him. Our marriage is not happy just yet. But we are working to mend it. If we don't love each other, we'll at least be friends."  
Brienne nodded. "I'm glad to hear of that. To be sure, you are allowing me to serve you?"

Sansa had to laugh a bit. "My lady, it would be _my _honor to be under your protection."

And then, Brienne's eyes took on a certain light Sansa had not yet seen. Her lips curved in a smile, and she unsheathed her sword, kneeling before Sansa.  
"Lady Sansa Stark, I promise to serve you, and only you, in honor of your lady mother, Catelyn Stark. You will always be under my protection, from this day, until the day I die."

As she rose, Brienne said, "Also, you do not need to call me 'Lady'. Just Brienne will do."

Sansa could not stop herself. She walked over and embraced Brienne, fighting back tears. "Thank you."

Brienne stood in Sansa's arms, shocked. But she slowly softened, and put her arms around Sansa's shoulders.

When they separated, Sansa looked Brienne in the eye, and said with as much courage as possible, "Brienne of Tarth, I promise that you are always welcome at my and my lord husband's supper table. You can look to me as your friend, from this day, until the day I die."

"Friend?" Brienne asked, her face continuing to soften. "My lady, thank you."

"Please," Sansa responded, "I'm just Sansa."

* * *

Tyrion returned an hour and a half later. Sansa and Brienne had been sitting and talking the entire time, learning little and big things about one another quickly.

"Lady Brienne," Tyrion said as he set down a book, "I'm glad you were able to find Sansa."

"It was quite easy, my lord," Brienne responded. "And please, I'm just Brienne."

"Then I'm just Tyrion," he answered with a sly smile.  
Sansa smiled, realizing she had to tell Tyrion of what had gone on while he was away. "Tyrion, Brienne has asked to be a protector for me. She's to stay in King's Landing, and she... swore herself to me."

Tyrion's eyes lit up. "I'm glad. Brienne, you are an honorable woman."

"And... I have told her she is always welcome at our dinner table."

"The more, the merrier! You are much better company than my family, I must say. I'm already sure of that."

Brienne smiled. "You are too kind. Forgive me, but could I just depart for a moment, to find Ser Jaime and update him on what I've been doing?"

Sansa nodded, and Brienne left with a bow.

"Were you catching up with Jaime?" Sansa asked Tyrion as she sat next to him on the chaise.

"I was," Tyrion replied. "Amazing, all that has happened to the both of us since we last saw one another." Tyrion looked down then. "I do have to tell you something, though."

"What is it?"

"My father... has ordered that we all dine together tonight. You and me, Cersei and Joffrey, Jaime and Brienne and Qyburn."

The thought of that still terrified Sansa, but not as much as it would have without Brienne. Sansa had grown to like her quite a bit in the last hour, and she had realized that Brienne was incredibly serious about protecting her.

Sansa nodded. "I will go with you. But only if I get to sit next to you or Brienne."

Tyrion chuckled. "You could sit next to us both, if need be."

And for the first time in months, Sansa Stark felt truly safe.

* * *

_A/N: Hi all! This chapter is a little earlier than expected. I'm going away with some friends for the weekend, so I figured I'd update you, since I can't on Saturday or Sunday. _

_As always, your reviews give me so much motivation. And, of course, you can follow me on Tumblr (my URL is punklobster) and Twitter ( punk_lobster). Much love! _


	6. Tyrion- A Case of You

_A Case of You_

_Tyrion _

"_You're in my blood, you're my holy wine,  
You taste so bitter and so sweet.  
Oh I could drink a case of you, darling._

_-_Joni Mitchell, _"A Case of You"_

* * *

When Tyrion walked into the sleeping chamber he shared with Sansa, he found her sitting at the vanity and looking glass, Shae at her side. His former lover was loosening a lock of Sansa's hair from a final curling wrap, until it fell below her shoulder in a twirling ringlet.

Sansa rose then, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. In a rich red dress that Tyrion had never seen and some sort of strawberry-colored gloss on her lips, she looked beautiful. But that was not a surprise.

Tyrion wanted to say his usual "my lady, you look radiant" line, but he found himself speechless- a rare occurrence for him. He could feel his cheeks reddening. He let out a small chuckle and looked down at the ground.

"You look quite nice," Sansa said shyly.

He still could not talk. _I... look nice? _He barely heard that from anyone. But he had taken extra care to dress for this supper- he had chosen a black and gold jerkin that he had worn quite often when he was Hand. He had hoped Sansa would like it.

Tyrion finally found his voice and smiled. "Thank you, my lady. Would your handmaiden mind giving us a moment alone?"

Sansa gave Shae a trusting nod, and Shae walked away slowly, glaring at Tyrion the entire time.

When he heard the door shut behind him, he stepped closer. "Sansa, know that I want you to be comfortable for this dinner. If you don't want to do this-"

"I have to do it at some point," she said firmly. "If I don't come tonight, they will keep pushing, and pushing. Besides, I... I feel brave enough to do this."

He took her hand in both of his small ones and looked at her beautiful, Tully blue eyes. "You _are _brave, Sansa. I admire you so."

Sansa looked down, and wordlessly slipped down to her knees, so that they'd be at the same height. "Why would you admire someone like me?" she asked, still not meeting his eyes.

Tyrion laughed humorlessly. "You so underestimate yourself, Lady Stark. I didn't think anyone could survive what you've survived in my family's clutches. You show such persistence. I know that you are not a slave to the Lannister name. You could never be. You are so courageous and courteous."

Without a word, she leaned over and gracefully placed her lips on his. This kiss was gentle, but not as gentle as the one he had gotten earlier that day. He could feel a twinge of passion in it as their mouthes moved together as though they were ballroom dancing in an empty room.

Sansa pulled away slowly, with a small smile. Patting his hand, she whispered, "Let's go."

* * *

They walked into the dining chambers holding hands. By then, everyone was sitting down, with two empty seats to Brienne's right. Tyrion silently thanked the gods. _Joffrey didn't pull some sort of cruelty so that she'd have to sit next to him again. _

Tyrion knew they were late, and expected his lord father to say something, but he only gave them a curt nod as they slid into their chairs.

Everybody was silent as the first course was served. The only noise that could be heard in the hall was the clacking of cutlery and plates.

But by the second course, Tywin began to start obligatory conversation.

"Lady Brienne," he said as he sipped at some wine, "How are you liking the Capital?"

"It is lovely, my lord," Brienne said politely.

"Probably not as lovely as Tarth, though," Jaime remarked. Tyrion noted they were sitting next to one another, with Cersei across the table with their father- and each had an arm extended under the table.

They had to be holding hands.

"I have heard that you are to be a protector to Lady Sansa," Tywin continued.

"I am, my lord. I've heard great tales of Lady Sansa, and when I heard she does not have any personal guards, I thought I might... jump at the chance."

Brienne was smart enough not to mention Lady Catelyn, or any of the Starks.

"Forgive me, Lady Brienne," Joffrey jumped in, with a very false politeness, "But we never thought Lady Sansa _needed _personal guides. As a captive of the realm... she has no value."

Brienne's face was stone. "As you will, Your Grace."

_What a wise woman, to not argue with this idiot boy King. He doesn't know her well- he has no problem cutting out stranger's tongues. _

"Tyrion," Tywin said suddenly, "Lady Sansa. Tell me. How is your marriage?"

_If he brings up consummation... _

"It is wonderful, Lord Tywin." Sansa interrupted his thoughts. "Your son has treated me so wonderfully. I could not be happier. Thank you... for making this match."

For a moment, Tyrion thought he saw a ghost of a smile appearing on his father's face. But it was gone just as quickly as it came. "No need to thank me, my lady. I did think that you two would be quite compatible."

Tyrion knew that that was a lie, but he wanted to believe it. Because it was true- they were quite compatible. _Who would have thought?_

* * *

He wasn't expecting it, but the supper was quite uneventful. Cersei and Joffrey barely said anything, Jaime and Brienne kept exchanging smiles—- the only people who continued a conversation were Sansa and Lord Tywin.

They talked of many things- the upcoming winter, some kind of book, cartography. All Tyrion could do was sit and stare in wonder.

As the last course wrapped up, and he rose with Sansa, Lord Tywin walked to the other side of the table and shook Sansa's hand.

"That was beautiful," Tyrion said to his wife as they walked back to their chambers.

Sansa laughed. "What was?"

"I have _never _seen someone charm my father like that. How did you do that?"

"I don't know, to be honest. The conversations just built themselves."

"Well, Lady Stark, you are quite the charmer."

"Oh, am I?" she asked flirtatiously as he opened the door.

He gently pulled at her arm, lowering her so he could kiss her. "Yes, you are," he replied, an exhilarating feeling rippling through him.

Sansa stared at him, her eyes on fire. Then she bit her lip excitedly, and scurried to a corner.

"What are you...?"

She returned quickly, practically running.

And when she returned, she wasn't wearing anything.

Tyrion could feel his entire body turning pink- and something rising.

"Sansa, I-"

"I think it's time," she said, her voice sounding rushed. "We can... consummate our marriage."

"Sansa, are you sure? Don't feel like we need to because my father pressures us."

"No," she said firmly. "Your father has nothing to do with this. I want you. I truly do. And I don't know if you want me, but if you do-"

Tyrion put a trembling finger to his lips, and she immediately closed her mouth. She was beautiful, he already knew that- but seeing her naked, vulnerable, lustful- there was so much hidden beauty in that. She was perfect.

He practically ripped his jerkin and doublet off until his chest was bare, then walked to his wife, his lips crashing into hers, their tongues swiftly meeting one another for a second. His hands at her jaw, he whispered, "Yes. I do want you."

* * *

_A/N: So, I know this chapter is short. And long overdue. There's no excuse for it besides I put it aside for too long. But I do hope you enjoyed this chapter. The rating of this fic has officially been changed to "M" for the end of this chapter, and all of the upcoming next one. As always, thank you so much for your support! :) I hope to have the next chapter within the next week. _


	7. Sansa- Your Body is a Machine

_Your Body is a Machine_

_Sansa_

"_I feel you beating in my chest,_

_I feel you screaming in my lungs...  
I feel the crimson on my lips,_

_Now my stomach's lined with gold."_

-The Good Natured, "_Your Body is a Machine_"

* * *

"Talk... talk me through this," Sansa said breathlessly through her husband's lips. "I... don't want us to move too fast. But... I want you... _oh, _I want you."

Tyrion pulled away, his small hands still cupping her face. "Perhaps we are moving too fast. I don't want you to regret this."

Sansa looked down at the floor. _What if I _do _regret this? My maidenhead is something I can never get back. What if I am not ready? What if I don't truly love him?_

But soon she remembered something her father used to tell her and all of her other siblings. "Your first thought in an ambition is usually right," she recalled Lord Eddard saying, "Whether it be in war or in love. Listen to what your entire body tells you. It is usually correct."

The goose-prickles on Sansa's skin felt like a cloak that was covering her naked body. Her kneecaps were numb from laying upon the tiles to be at Tyrion's eye-length.

And her entire chest ached, with a desire she had never felt in full. It had come inside of her in bits and pieces, when she was infatuated with Joffrey and Loras, for those short times.

_My body... it is saying 'yes'. _

"No," Sansa finally said, a little louder than she meant to. "I will not regret this. I _do _want you. Tyrion, may we consummate our marriage?"

In the dim candlelight, Tyrion chuckled, and planted another kiss upon her, as they both eased on top of their marriage bed.

Slowly, Sansa peeled her husband's trouser's off of his legs, revealing his manhood- the manhood she had heard so much talk about since being a part of court.

It was much bigger than he had made it out to be at their wedding.

Tyrion began kissing her again, much more passionately, more hungrily. Sansa wrapped her arms around him, her fingernails digging into his back. She felt him poke her leg, and she could not help but smile devilishly.

He smiled back, their lips touching in joy for a brief moment, before began trailing down her body. He sucked on her neck, leaving Sansa absolutely breathless. His hands were at her breasts, kneading them, twisting softly until she was moaning as quietly as she could.

"How do you do that?" she gasped.

In the dim candlelight, Sansa could see her husband smirking. "Well, I've had a little practice."

She smirked back. "Well, I hope you know that you're quite good."

Their lips crashed together as he leaned over, then left each other again. "I do."

Sansa could not help but laugh as Tyrion began to position his body on top of hers.

"Lady Sansa," he whispered, "Do I have your permission consummate this marriage?"

Sansa inhaled, then nodded. "Yes."  
And then she was on fire- in the best way possible. But at the same time, she felt as though she was floating in the sea with Tyrion. She had never been in the sea, she had only watched the ships glide through it with Shae. As she and Tyrion began to make love for the first time, her entire body felt strong. Her fingernails continued to dig into Tyrion's backbone, until Tyrion was moaning himself.

He was most kind while they were together. Occasionally he would slow down, and look at Sansa to say, _"Are you all right?" _And Sansa would smile and nod, bite his lip or put her hands on her shoulders, and they would be at it again.

It was so quiet in their chambers as they made love, all except for the chamber choir's song of their breathless whispers. They tried to stay silent so that they would not be heard by the wrong person, but it was so difficult. Often times Sansa wanted to scream with pleasure. All she could do was whisper. "Yes," she said often. "Yes, yes, yes."

Tyrion would say her name. "Sansa," he kept repeating, with a passion in his eyes even she could see in the dim candlelight.

When they were finished, lying side by side, gasping for air, Sansa stirred enough strength to put a shaky hand to Tyrion's side. "That was wonderful," she whispered, in a newly developed habit.

He turned his head and pecked her mouth. "I'm glad. Not everyone has a wonderful first experience."  
Sansa shut her eyes and smiled. Then, she decided to confess something. "I'm happy it was you. I'm happy it wasn't Loras. I'm _especially _happy it wasn't Joffrey."

Tyrion laughed with a twinge of bitterness. "I agree. I don't want to imagine my nephew in the bed chambers."

She shared his cynical laugh, and moved her head to his chest. She could hear his heart beating, and began to tap the fingers on her other side to its rhythm. _Th-Thump. Th-thump. Th-thump. _

"Sansa?" Tyrion spoke up. She felt a vibration under her ear.

"Yes?"

"What do you want? Where do you want to go? What do you love the most?"

Sansa sat up, taken aback by his questions. _No one has ever asked me that. _

"I... I don't know what I want, entirely. But I love stories the most, I believe. I love stories, and reading. And... I want to be anywhere. Anywhere but here.

"For a long time, I wanted nothing more than Winterfell. But that is gone. I know it's gone. It's ash mixed with the snow. So, I'll go anywhere at this point. Just... not here. Never here."

Tyrion nodded, tilting his head to kiss her brow. "I admire you so, Sansa Stark."

She put her hand over his heart again in response, with a small smile on her face.

They lay there in silence for a while. Sansa at one point thought he may be asleep, though he was not snoring like he usually did.

But then, Tyrion abruptly sat up. "Sansa," he said. "I know where we can go."

* * *

A/N: Oh my goodness. I'm so sorry for the delay. I don't have much of an excuse.

For a while I was in a long rut where I was very conflicted about updating this fan fiction. I didn't feel like I felt enough for this ship to update it. But I felt cruel leaving you all waiting, and writing this chapter has ignited the shipping of Sansa and Tyrion inside of me again.

A special thank you to an anon on Tumblr for motivating me.

I'm sorry this chapter is still quite short. I can't write very long pieces anymore. :(

Hope you all are well! You can find me at queenofametaphor on Tumblr now. xo


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